
The lines underneath your lashes
Are not as deep as the valleys
That exscind your heart
*
You relay all bias
Through the moon
The phases of eclipse and ignition
Even the gravity
That enslaves you to your art
Is both anathema and provision
*
I watch you spread flesh and blood
Over open-faced diaries
Praying that exposure might lend itself
To an ubiquitous cleansing
Praying that the honesty of one
Might translate the voiceless panic
Of an increasingly damaged nation
*
I dread those moments
When your upturned brushes
Find no cause worthy of polemic
Those moments when your palate knife
Euthanizes all endeavor
To see you virulent in the act of creation
Is the substance of my unwashed dreams
So paint and through painting be seen